"Your story should be written now while it is fresh and while the true details are available. A journal is the literature of superiority. Each individual can become superior in her own humble life." ~Spencer W. Kimball

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Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Sleep Runner

It was well past midnight. I had just finished feeding Beth and had returned her to her bed. As I was climbing into my own bed, ready to snuggle down with Jeffrey and get some much needed sleep, I suddenly froze and listened.

I heard running feet going down the hallway. Down the hallway they went, into the kitchen, then back up the hall. I strained my ears, listening for a door to open or close, but I never heard it. Jeffrey and I looked at each other, and then sprang into action. When we opened our door and saw that Faye's door was shut tight, we decided to split up. I went to check on Faye, and he went downstairs to check on Keith.

I opened Faye's door to see all as it should be. She was under her covers, the floor a regular mine field of toys, and her blankets all skiwampus across her bed. Deftly maneuvering, I made my way over to her bed to kiss her goodnight again. I pulled back her covers, and she sat up. Almost as if her blankets were spring loaded she sprang up, and it caught me by surprise. I asked her if she had been running down the hall, and she mumbled something. I asked her again, and she mumbled again, less coherently than before. I asked one more time, trying to make sense of what she was saying, and as she spoke, she slowly leaned back into her bed, speaking complete gibberish by this time. I could feel a deep belly laugh bubbling up, so I quickly brushed her hair off her forehead, kissed it, tucked the blankets under her chin, braved the toy booby-trapped floor, and left her room. As soon as I had made it back to my own, I burst out laughing, quickly covering my mouth with my pillow so as to not awaken Beth.

Jeffrey came back to tell me Keith was sound asleep and when he found me shaking with laughter, a pillow stuffed into my mouth, he looked at me like I was some sort of loony. I explained about Faye's midnight sleep run and then her incoherent babbling, and we laughed together, sharing stories about sleep talking and sleep walking. Apparently the sleep walking comes from my family. My little brother and sister both do it or did it. The talking comes from his family.